During a family dinner, Jennifer was taken aback when her parents asked her to pay for her food while they covered the expense for everyone else. The pain of injustice intensifies Jennifer’s bitterness, laying the groundwork for a memorable family clash.
Mom texted me about a “special family dinner” that night, and I almost choked on my microwaved ramen. We hadn’t all met in a very long time, and it had been much longer since I felt like my parents genuinely wanted me to be there.
Being the middle child is like being the bologna in a sandwich where everyone is squabbling over the bread, even though I like my family.
With my thumb lingering above the keyboard, I gazed at my phone. I wanted to come up with some flimsy reason, but then I remembered Tina and Cameron, my ideal older sister and my unfailing little brother.
As usual, they would be there, enjoying the praise from their parents. And if I didn’t show there, I would continue to be the constant afterthought.
Before I could change my mind, I typed, “Count me in,” and clicked send.
Mom answered right away. Fantastic! Next Friday at 7 p.m. at Le Petit Château. Be on time!
Le Petit Château. Elegant. I whistled softly, already calculating how much money I had saved. Although this was not going to be inexpensive, perhaps it was an indication that things were about to change. Maybe, Jennifer the Forgettable, they really wanted to hang out with me.
I was anxious, so I got to the restaurant 10 minutes early on Friday. I was ready to enter when Dad and Mom arrived. Mom was beaming, and Dad was wearing his typical worried look.
Tina and Robert joined us shortly after we picked a comfortable table inside. As usual, Tina looked amazing, and in contrast, I felt like a potato. Cameron finally showed there, as usual late, whining about the traffic.
Mom wasted no time in making me feel unimportant now that we were all established.
Looking at me over her menu, Mom remarked, “So, Jennifer, how’s work going? Still working for that tiny marketing company?
Trying not to get upset at the word “little,” I nodded. Yes, it’s good. Actually, we just got a really substantial client. I am in charge of the campaign.
Mom responded, “Oh, that’s nice,” her gaze immediately returning to Tina, who was telling Dad stories about her son’s most recent soccer match.
It hurt, but as we ate, the mood lightened. The food was excellent, and before long, we were laughing and chatting as we had when I was younger.
Before the check arrived, I was savoring the food and the infrequent sense of belonging to the family.
Like he always did, Dad grabbed it and began to go over the bill. But then, staring at me, he scowled.
“Jennifer, you’ll be covering your portion tonight,” he said in a strangely professional tone.
I squinted, certain that I had misheard him. “What?”
He went on to say, “You’re an adult now,” as though he were speaking to a child. “You need to start covering your own expenses.”
“However…” “I thought this was a family dinner,” I said in a low voice. Everyone else is being paid for by you.
Dad’s scowl grew. “Your brother and sister must provide for their families. Since you’re not dating, it’s only fair.
Just. The word mockingly reverberated in my mind. I forced myself to swallow, choking back the tears that threatened to fall. I took out my credit card and gave it to the waiter silently, hoping it wouldn’t be refused.
The remainder of the evening was a haze. The pain started to turn into something else while I was driving home. Something angrier, something tougher.
I woke up the following morning with a headache and a bitter heart. I alternated throughout the day between pacing my apartment like a caged animal and sulking on the couch. Something inside of me had changed by dusk.
I wasn’t going to ignore this. Not now.
A thought began to take shape. It seemed crazy at first, but as I gave it more thinking, it began to make sense. I intended to make them experience the consequences of their actions.
I spent days planning the menu after inviting Mom and Dad over for supper. I bought expensive candles, cleaned my apartment until it was sparkling, and even treated myself to a tablecloth that wasn’t from the dollar store.
When the dinner night finally came, I was remarkably composed. I was following through on my plan.
It was precisely 7 p.m. when the doorbell rang. Grinning broadly, I opened the door after taking a big breath.
“Dad, Mom! Enter now!
I was given a bottle of wine by Dad. “Jennifer, the place looks nice.”
I ushered them into the living room and said, “Thank you.” “Dinner is about ready. Would you want something to drink?
Mom sat down on the couch and looked at my bookshelf while I poured their wine. “So, how are you doing, my love? Since—well, since our most recent dinner—we haven’t heard anything from you.
I suppressed a small chuckle. “Oh, you understand. Work has been quite hectic.
Our discussion was stiff and full of extended pauses as we engaged in small talk for a while. We were all saved when the oven timer finally beeped.
“Supper is ready!” I said, maybe a little too happily.
With the dish—quinoa salad that had taken ages to prepare, roasted veggies, and fish with a herb crust—I had beyond myself. As they ate, Mom and Dad made the proper sounds of gratitude.
Mom remarked, “This is delicious, Jennifer,” with genuine admiration. “I had no idea you were such a talented chef.”
I suppressed my irritation at her astonishment by shrugging. “Over the years, I’ve learned a few things.”
The evening went smoothly, nearly to the point of being enjoyable. I nearly forgot why I had initially invited them over. I knew it was time when Dad began one of his lectures about financial responsibility.
I braced myself as I cleared the plates and served a decadent tiramisu for dessert. It was this.
As I put down the dessert bowls, I remarked nonchalantly, “I hope you enjoyed the meal.”
They both grinned and nodded. “It was amazing, my love,” Mom remarked.
I returned the smile, but it fell short of my eyes. Fantastic. Please, that will cost $47.50 each person.
The ensuing hush was deafening. Dad’s expression changed quickly from bewilderment to astonishment to rage when Mom’s fork clanked across her plate.
“I apologize, but what?” He sputtered.
I mimicked Dad’s tone from that evening at the restaurant by speaking in a calm manner. “Well, both of you are adults. You should start covering your own expenses.
Like a fish out of water, Mom’s mouth moved back and forth. However, this is your house. We were invited.
“Yes,” I responded, a little harder in my voice. In the same way that you asked me to visit Le Petit Château. He then forced me to cover everyone else’s lunch while paying for mine.
Their faces lit up with understanding, and then humiliation.
“Jennifer,” said Dad in a rough voice. “That isn’t… We didn’t intend to
“What didn’t you mean?” Years of suppressed annoyance finally boiled over when I intervened.
Did you not intend to give me the impression that Tina or Cameron are more valuable than I am? Did you not intend to ignore me all the time? Or did you simply not intend to be called out?
When Mom reached out to take my hand, I resisted. “We didn’t know you felt this way, sweetie.”
There was no comedy in my laughter. “You obviously didn’t. Do you know what it’s like to be the family’s afterthought all the time?
Dad shuffled in his chair uneasily.
“Jennifer, we love you as much as your siblings do.”
“Do you?” I posed a challenge. Since it doesn’t feel that way. I work just as hard as Cameron and am just as successful as Tina. However, they seem to get away with it whereas I’m always expected to “act like an adult.”
Once more, the room fell silent, but this time it was filled with long-ignored emotions and unsaid words.
Dad cleared his throat at last. “Jennifer, we owe you an apology. A large one.
With tears in her eyes, Mom nodded. “We never intended to diminish your worth. We adore you because you are our daughter. We simply haven’t done a good enough job of demonstrating it.
My own eyes started to flood up, but I forced myself to blink them away. “Please don’t apologize to me. I’d like you to perform better. to improve. to visit me.
Dad got to his feet, his motions rigid. I briefly believed he was going to go.
Rather, he came around the table and gave me a hug. Although it was awkward and a bit too close, it was more sincere than any conversation we had had in a long time.
His voice was hoarse with passion as he said, “We see you, Jennifer.” And you have our utmost admiration. We have taken you for granted and have been oblivious and foolish. However, that is now over.
We just stood there for a minute, a tangle of arms, unshed tears, and long-overdue honesty, until Mom joined in the embrace.
Mom dried her eyes and laughed waterily when we eventually parted ways. “Well, what about that bill?”
I couldn’t contain my laughter. I’ll tell you what. The house has this one. But when we go out again? The check will be divided equally. Every one of us.
Dad gave a serious nod. “Agree.”
When they departed that evening, nothing had been miraculously resolved. It takes more than one talk to erase years of feeling ignored and underappreciated. However, it was a beginning. a gap in the barrier I had erected around myself that allowed hope to shine through.
Although this work has been fictionalized for artistic reasons, it is based on actual individuals and events. To preserve privacy and improve the story, names, characters, and specifics have been altered. Any likeness to real people—living or dead—or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.
The publisher and author disclaim all liability for any misunderstanding and offer no guarantees regarding the veracity of events or character portrayals. The opinions contained in this narrative are those of the characters and do not represent the author’s or publisher’s perspectives. It is presented “as is.”
